


You Can Hide, but You Can’t Run

by Webhoard



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff without Plot, Hide and Seek, Porn With Plot, Scaring, Smut, i'm immature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 18:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14502519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webhoard/pseuds/Webhoard
Summary: Your lazy Sunday morning with Sam doesn’t stay lazy for long. Inspired bythispost, which I thought had Sam written all over it.





	You Can Hide, but You Can’t Run

**Author's Note:**

> Lol, I did it. I smutted the smut. I hope it’s not terrible. 
> 
> A quick note about safe sex because it’s ignored in fanfic all the gd time: Sam and Reader are already in a relationship. I’m running under the assumption that they have already been tested for STDs--they probably got tested together because that’s what happens in healthy partnerships imo--and Reader is on some sort of birth control. Ergo, no condom. But please, outside of these circumstances (birth control and negative STD screenings), always make your man wear a condom. Your health and safety is more important than his “but it just doesn’t feel as good.”

It was one of those Sunday mornings, the kind that made your mind sluggish and your bones stiff. You knew you should get up, make coffee, eat breakfast, do something, anything, remotely productive. You knew the longer you lay in bed, the longer you let yourself drowse and vacillate between waking and sleeping, the harder it would be to rouse yourself early tomorrow for training, paperwork, and regular work-a-day life. But no matter how earnest that voice in your head sounded, you couldn’t will yourself to get up just yet. 

It didn’t help that you were being anchored on your back under the fluffy duvet by an arm across your stomach and a pair of legs that were tangled with yours. Sam was nothing if not a dedicated enabler of lazy Sundays. 

He let out a groggy and irritated groan as you fidgeted with the duvet and shifted your position yet again, and his arm, which had previously been languidly draped around you, tightened its hold as his fingers gripped at your side.

“You’re out of your goddamned mind if you think you’re getting out of this bed,” Sam whispered gruffly in your ear before burying his forehead into the crook of your neck.

You huffed out a half-hearted laugh, your body being too tired to truly commit to a real one, “Can I at least go use the bathroom and brush my teeth? I’ve got some skanky morning breath here.”

Sam laughed softly, his breath tingling the skin of your neck and shoulder, “Jeez, Y/N, but fine,” His grip softened and released its hold on you as he grumbled warningly, “But we are getting right back into this bed, got it?”

“Sir, yes, sir, back to bed, sir,” you mocked as with as much fake respect and enthusiasm that your lethargic body could summon as you heaved yourself out of bed.

You and he brushed your teeth in silence, him sitting on the lid of the toilet, staring listlessly at the floor, and you leaning your hip against the counter and looking down at him as a sudden idea sprang into your mind.

You hurried through the rest of your tooth brushing, and gave him an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder as he sat there still brushing his teeth with a sleep-dazed look on his face, “I’m gonna go grab us a couple cups of coffee from the kitchen, and I promise I’ll come right back to the room to be as unproductive as possible.”

He gave you an unimpressed look as he grunted unintelligibly through a mouthful of toothpaste foam.

You rolled your eyes at him affectionately. “I promise. I know how protective you are of your Sunday mornings. Be right back.”

You heard his muffled “Mmhmm,” from behind you as you walked into the bedroom as calmly and unsuspectingly as possible. As soon as you as you were out of sight of the bathroom, however, you hurried into the adjoining sitting room and over to the door that opened to the main hallway. You then opened the door before promptly closing it with an audible bang without actually leaving your quarters. 

Then with a childish thrill, you practically sprinted back into your bedroom and dove underneath the bedframe, grunting slightly at the tight fit as your butt took a hit from the frame in your rush. Your trap was set. All you had to do now was wait for him to come back to bed, and you could fulfill your stupid prank that shouldn’t be as funny as you were making it out to be. 

You suppressed another bout of nervous laughter, acutely aware of how dumb and immature you were being. What would the ever-trusting public think if they could see the Avengers now—well, you, at least—hiding under your bed in order to scare your boyfriend. 

Another jolt of giddy nerves washed through you as you heard Sam finish up in the bathroom, and you scooted forward as quietly as you could to get a better view out from under the bedframe. 

When Sam came back out into the bedroom, he looked around the empty room for a few seconds, and then walked to the small doorway that led to your sitting room, looking around again. Then, with an excited chuckle, he scampered into the walk-in closet and closed the door behind him, leaving it open just a crack, from where he was no doubt peering out. 

You almost couldn’t subdue the peals of laughter trying to escape your throat, and your stomach cramped with the effort. Apparently, Sam had the same idea as you, and that knowledge just made the whole situation seem even stupider and funnier to you. 

Trying to keep from laughing still, you waited it out, not caring that your knowledge of the whole situation had given you the upper hand. Sooner or later, he would get tired of waiting and come out of the closet—no, not like that—to come looking for you. He would probably assume you had gotten held up talking with someone in the kitchen as you had a habit of doing. He would probably attempt to go stalking out to the kitchen to drag you back into your Sunday sanctuary to snuggle and sleep. The fool.

The seconds ticked by, slowly turning into minutes. You finally heard a frustrated sigh from within the closet before Sam peeked his head out of the door.

“Y/N?” He called, pausing a long moment. You had to bite down on your lip, almost drawing blood, to keep from giggling. “Y/N? You in here?” He tiptoed out of the closet and was heading toward the sitting room, his feet passing right by you.

With a loud and prolonged “ARGGH!” you reached out from under the bed and grabbed Sam’s ankle. Your growl quickly turned into a side-splitting laugh as Sam attempted to jump out of your clawing grasp with a shrill, screeching scream. He fell backward onto the floor, kicking his feet frantically, clutching at his chest with heaving and ragged breaths as he began to finally register your cackles coming from under the bed with a growing scowl.

Through the cacophony of screams and laughter, Friday’s voice sounded off with just an edge of concern that you could swear was real and not programmed, “Mr. Wilson, you seem to be in some kind of distress, shall I alert the members of your team of any personal danger?”

His voice still gruff from screaming and his chest still rising and falling in rapid gasps, “No! I’m fine, but my girlfriend is about to not be.”

You let out a shriek and turned around as well as you could to retreat further under the bed as he flipped back to his front and propelled himself forward at your recoiling form with a shout of laugher.

“Am I to understand that any further distress calls are not intended to engage the emergency protocols then?” Friday’s voice now had a slight edge of irritation.

Sam called back, “You got it, Friday!” as you simultaneously screamed through your laughter, “I think he’s going to murder me! Help!”

“I will suspend any emergency protocols for the time being. Any further false alarms will be regarded as a breach of protocol and may result in disciplinary action.” Yeah, Friday definitely sounded irritated.

But you and Sam were heedless of her words as he followed you under the bed just far enough to grab ahold of your ankles and tug you out from under your refuge. You tried kicking your feet loose, but Sam’s grip was strong and so were his arms. You helplessly grabbed at the cross beams of the frame as he pulled you free and fully out from under the bed.

Almost immediately, he let out a victorious whoop and practically leapt on top of you, holding your shoulders down with his hands while his hips settled between your legs, effectively pinning you to the floor as you wiggled and giggled under him. Your hands, which were still free, quickly reached up to tickle him in his arm pits, his most sensitive spot. You were not above fighting dirty.

He yelped in surprise, but quickly recovered, grabbing your wrists and planting them on the floor above your head where he held them. Even though you were still squirming under him, you knew you were defeated and utterly at his mercy.

“Do you give up?” He asked, panting from exertion. 

“Never!” You laughed frantically.

He shook his head, smiling down at you, and shifted your wrists to just his left hand, holding up his right one threateningly, “I’ve got you pinned! Admit defeat, or I’ll get my revenge and tickle you back.”

That was the last straw, “Nonono, please! I give up, you win, you win!”

He laughed at his triumph, “Ah hah! Victorious!” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fucking sore winner,” you grumbled, still wriggling beneath him slightly.

Sam smirked at you in that smug way that that you’d grown to love so well, planting his right arm on the ground next you, “Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

You hummed in annoyed agreement, looking back up with just a hint of the affection you really felt. After all, there were worse things than being pinned on the floor by your boyfriend.

And just like that something in the air seemed to change as Sam looked down at you, mischief still in his eyes, and you looked up at him with a warm gaze. You felt a pleasant flutter in your stomach that only he could trigger. And you seemed to be having a similar effect on him as his smirk softened to something more heartfelt and tender.

Very gently, very slowly, he leant his face down and brushed his lips against yours, and you found yourself utterly spellbound by the taste and feel of his lips as always. Only he could simultaneously steal your breath and make you gasp deeply for more. You didn’t mind that you were pinned beneath him and unable to move; you trusted Sam, longed for him, and wanted more of him. 

You lifted your neck off the floor to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back all too soon, giving your bottom lip a teasing nip as a glint came into his eyes as his grip around your wristed tightened a little.

He ground his hips down ever so slightly, and you could feel that he was getting hard. You arched a brow at him, eliciting an uncharacteristically shy smile from him, as you brought your legs up, hooking your heels behind his thighs and rolling your hips up to meet his.

“I guess the winner deserves a reward then, huh?” You stared into his deep, sable eyes, challenging him to make the next move. You were under his mercy, after all.

And with that he lunged for your lips as he kissed you hungrily and greedily. Using your heels to coax him on, you pulled him closer and harder against you, relishing in the friction against your own arousal. He brought his right hand down, sweeping it along your body and under the hem of your night shirt, letting his dull nails scratch lightly at the delicate skin there.

You gasped at his touch, “Sam, please. Don’t tease.”

You could feel his smile against your lips as he murmured and his hand moved further down, “We got all morning, sweetheart. What’s the rush?”

Your rebuke died in your throat and your mind went hazy as his lips kissed across your jaw and his hand delved under the band of your shorts and began massaging at your folds through your underwear. Leveraging your hips up with your heels still on his thighs, you ground against his hand needfully, the pressure just shy of enough, as he laughed softly into your ear nibbling gently at the lobe.

“I swear to god, Sam—” you whimpered, twisting your wrists beneath his still firm grasp. 

Kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin under your ear, he finally pulled your underwear to the side and gave you the friction you were begging for. You let out a broken moan and arched into his touch as his deft fingers massaged your clit and his lips caressed down your throat, a smoldering heat building your abdomen.

Squinting your eyes shut, you tried to block out every sensation save for the feel of Sam’s lips, Sam’s fingers, Sam’s everything. You could feel the rough fibers of the carpet biting into the skin of your shoulders through your thin shirt, but you paid no heed to that burn, not when there were ripples of heated pleasure coursing through your veins and every corner of your mind.

And then your hearing went fuzzy and your diaphragm seemed to stutter. You could smell the heady aroma of sweat and arousal in the air and practically taste the way your breath caught in your throat as you came with a soundless cry. Murmuring lovingly to you, Sam worked you through your orgasm, wave after wave, until the last wave came to a lull. 

When you finally opened your eyes, you could see yourself reflected in his dark irises as he looked down at you, love and awe written into his every feature. He finally let go of your wrists, your hands immediately grasping at his shoulders to pull him in for a kiss that was all tenderness and reverence as his newly freed left hand settled just below your jaw, thumb stroking gently at your cheek.

Finally, your lips drifted apart as he leant his forehead against yours, the raspy sound of each other’s breathing filling in for all the feelings that didn’t need to be spoken between you two.

But the calm lull could not last, not when Sam once again dipped his hips down to meet yours, not when you could feel his hard length pressing and rutting against your still sensitive center. The heat in your skin that had almost dissipated, came back with full force as perspiration began to dot your brow. Moving your hand from its grip on his shoulder, you took ahold of Sam’s length, palming him through his sweatpants, taking a proud pleasure in the needy and breathy sounds coming from him.

“I know you’re not going to tease me back,” he somehow managed to groan out brokenly. Luckily for him, your need for contact outweighed any further mischief, and you promptly tugged down the band of his sweatpants and briefs in one go while hand hands busied themselves with your own shorts and underwear. 

He was hot and hard in your hand as you lined him up. And as he slowly slid in, he let out a string of unintelligible curses and moans as you gasped for breath at being filled so perfectly. Biting and kissing at his shoulder, you planted one of your hands on his ass, squeezing gently in a plea for him to move. And after another moment of stunned stillness, he did, propping one arm next to your shoulder and setting an unhurried pace that thrilled you as much as it frustrated you because in truth, you could never have enough of Sam. 

Whether he were slamming into you against a wall or, like here, moving slowly to capture every sensation of moving in and out of you, it was never enough. He was the drink of cold water in a desert that dehydrated you just as quickly as your thirst was quenched. And so you drank him in and held on. Held on to this moment of connection, held onto the love he poured into each thrust, held onto his battle hardened body as if it were the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. 

Before long, his thrusts grew harder, ever so slightly quicker and more careless, so you locked your heels behind his thighs and urged him on, once again heedless of the way that the carpet fibers chafed at the delicate skin of your ass and lower back.

“I’m so close,” he gasped burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

You were still coming down from earlier and knew you weren’t going to come again, but that wasn’t important. What mattered was the connection, the feeling of him buried in you, holding you, breathing and moaning against your skin. You placed a hand on the back of his head, nails scratching gently and lovingly at the short hairs and scalp, whispering breathily into his ear, “Go on then. Let go.”

And he did. After a few more stuttered thrusts, he buried himself deep, moaning loudly, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he held onto you. After a few more fevered moments, his body relaxed and you felt a satisfied warmth emanate through your body. His forehead still on your shoulder, he placed a few chaste kisses there before picking his head up to kiss you properly, rucking up your shirt to gently run his hands up and down your side.

After a few more minutes of kissing, sharing each other’s breath, and drinking in the feeling of completion and bonding, you and he cleaned up a bit in the bathroom before you both slumped back onto the plush duvet in varied states of undress, eyes still bright and skin still warm.

“Y’know?” You mumbled, reaching for the remote on your bedside table and settling back into Sam’s embrace, “For a lazy Sunday, I think we got some good cardio in.”

He chuckled lowly as the TV clicked on, “Well, you started it when you hid under the bed to scare me.”

Frowning in amusement, you craned your neck backward and looked up at him, “Oh, don’t even. You were trying to do the same thing!”

“Nuh uh,” he protested shaking his head, “I was gonna jump out and go ‘rawr.’ You grabbed my ankle like a fucking lunatic.”

You smirked and laughed smugly, turning back to the TV to click through the channels, “You’re just jealous that my idea was objectively better than yours.” 

He tightened his hold on you and brought his mouth right next to your ear, “Yeah, yeah. Keep gloating, keep egging me on, keep giving more reasons to get back at you.” 

Maybe it was the husky tenor of his voice as he tried and failed to sound menacing, maybe it was that unquenchable thirst again, maybe it was just the closeness of him. But whatever it was, you felt that spark low in your belly reignite, and you knew that your lazy Sunday wouldn’t stay lazy for much longer.

**Author's Note:**

> ADJASHJKSHF SAM SMUT FINALLY. Yall happy now? (jk, I’ve been wanting to this for a while now). Sam is immortal in my heart and soul, and that’s all I’m gonna say about that.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You Can Hide, but You Can’t Run (SFW Version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14502516) by [Webhoard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webhoard/pseuds/Webhoard)




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